User blog comment:Bartholomew Bilberry Bowstring/The First of Many/@comment-26024035-20160425040834/@comment-26024035-20160509010309

The hulking smith's chest rumbled as he laughed, hoisting the barrel into the cart and sliding it down to the end with a light push of his paw. "Smaller crates?" His small, redbrown eyes twinkled with amusement as he turned to face Falkin and began moving on to the next barrel. "I'm a badger used to solitary work, my friend, so I hope you don't take it too personally if I were to say that only I could lift any of these alone. If those other two squirrels joined you, though, perhaps you could lift up that crate of iron, bronze and steel daggers." He plucked up the next barrel, breathing slowly through his nostrils. Rissah and Elmseye, lounging against the cart's side, looked up as they were mentioned. Rissah shrugged, tossing away an acorn shell and speaking as she chewed. "Mmff... s'pose we c'd help." Her lazy autumn-brown eyes roved to Elmseye, who sighed and stopped chewing a pawnail. "Love t' be of assistance." He agreed, with a hint of sarcasm.